


Good to be bad

by orphan_account



Category: Good to be bad TV ad, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, F/M, Good To Be Bad, Hitman AU, NSFW, No celeb fic, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 19:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wrote this actually for a friend quite some time ago, because the Good to be bad Jagur TV ads are simply thrilling for a little hitman/mafia AU





	1. Chapter 1

The engine roars like a wild beast as he steps on the gas, the wheels are squealing as he takes a sharp turn to keep up with the subject he follows, the victim, his job. No, not following. Chasing. Chasing through the nightly streets of London. He feels the adrenaline rushing through him, pushing him like a drug the faster the car goes. It makes him giggle until he laughs like a maniac, as if he’s high. A sharp pull to the left to avoid a car, a sharp pull to the right again to avoid another one. He floors the gas pedal. Again the engine roars just like the animal that gave its name to the car. For him it sounds like a horny woman that purrs naughty words into his ear. Oh yes, he loves this car and yes, he’s a speed-junkie. He does not smoke; it only ruins your teeth and nails, not to mention the stench it leaves in your clothes. He does not drink; it’s just a waste of money and killing your brain slowly. He does not do drugs; they turn your brain only into mash. But speed… when the engine howls, when he floors the gas pedal, when he’s speeding up, fuck yes! Speed! Rushing with up to 300 PS on the street, that’s the kind of drug he’s addicted to. That gives him the kick, that makes him hard. Good, or sad, however he looks at it, that his girl does not accompany him. He would pull the car sideways immediately and take her right on these smooth leather seats.  
He catches up; the police lost him already minutes ago. `Do it discreet` they said. But they also said he should make it quickly. Either this or that. If he should do it discreet, he can’t do it quickly. If he should do it quickly… he does not do it mostly discreet. He chose himself the fast way.  
Ha! He sees the red light even at this distance. What for a bloody twat, he really stops at the red light though he’s being chased. That’s his death sentence. He takes his gun, unlocks it and lets the window rolling down. Cold wind blows in, blows through the car ´cause of the pace. He feels the excitement growing the closer he gets. Another rush of adrenaline. The traffic light jumps to green, but not fast enough for his victim and not fast enough he brings his car to roll again as three shots are ringing through the night. Two smashing the window and one his skull.  
Job done, case closed.  
He locks the gun again, rolling up the window. Stepped down for the shots he speeds up again. Putting the gun away, he takes his mobile phone to phone his boss.  
“You insane fucking maniac! Do you know the meaning of discreet?! A car chase is not discreet! It’s not discreet to kill a subject in public!”  
“But he’s dead, so what. Quickly, just how you ordered.” He takes a turn, taking the direct way home now. He’s done for the night, done with his duty, worked for his money.  
“And now whole London searches for a white Jaguar, great work!”  
“It will be black by tomorrow.”  
“Don’t even think about it to try to bring these costs as job costs through, I dare you!”  
“I always wanted a black jaguar.”  
“Do you even listen?!”  
“What? Sorry, I was thinking about how gorgeous it would look in black.”  
A beeping sound tells him that his boss simply gave up and hung up the phone.  
Why does he even bother? He was too fast anyway that one could register his plate. And it’s fake anyway. He’s not stupid and no beginner. As if he would drive with a real register plate…  
“This bloody bastard! I’ll kill him one day with my own hands! Descreet! Do it discreet, that’s what I’ve said, do it the fuck discreet! And this bloody bastard starts a car chase through the inner city, causes a traffic jam, and so far several collisions!”  
“He would crash the car into the next wall just for fun. You know how he is.”  
“He costs me every single nerve…”  
“Have a drink and calm down.”  
“Sometimes I really hate him.”  
“I know.”  
“In really fucking hate him sometimes.”  
“I know. But he’s still the best we have for the dirty jobs. He’s always really fast.”  
“I know, I know, he’s the best we have, sadly…”  
The older run rises up from his armchair, goes over to the bar and fills a glass with fine whiskey, putting the glass in front of his friend onto the desk. It’s emptied immediately with one sip.  
“I am actually glad that he walked over to us. But still he costs me every single nerve, not to mention the money. One day he will blow everything!”  
“He will not. Here, have another one.”  
The second glass is emptied too with one sip.  
“He won’t blow anything. He’s a professional. He’s so skilled; he could even blame the Queen for everything. Or he simply kills a foreign spy and it has been again the Russians.”  
“He’s still a bloody bastard and one day I’ll punch him in the face.”


	2. Chapter 2

With a soft purr he rolls the car into the garage and switches off the engine. He steps out of it and gets the bag with his utensils.  
Another phone call, a pile of money in cash and a few papers later and the white jaguar was exchanged with a black one. Just how he likes it; perfection in leather, chrome and carbon. With the right connections you can get everything and he has the right connections. He shuts down the garage and stores his bag. Even if they would raid suddenly his home, they would never find the evidences. Never. He stands in front of the new beauty in his garage, stroking over the hood. Such smooth curves, really just like the body of a woman. Perfection. If mankind achieved something then to perfect cars. And by the topic of women… He looks over to the door that leads into the house. A hungry grin spreads across his face. A new car always needs to be inaugurated.  
He walks into the house, hearing immediately the music from above the stairs. Slowly he takes the steps upstairs, not making the slightest sound. He can see the shadow of her out of the bedroom, dancing to her music and singing to it, Musical. He rolls his eyes with a smirk. But she only sings when she thinks no one will hear her. So, only when he’s out of the house. Stopping next to the door, he looks carefully into the room, opening the door a bit more by a few inches. His grin could be described almost as lovingly as he sees her in her panties and a simple shirt, interrupting the brushing of her hair and using the brush as a microphone. He draws back, leans against the wall. His grin turns into the one of a predator, fixing his tie and the gloves. He knows the song. In a few seconds comes the part where she will close her eyes and shaking her head that her hair will flip around. And… that… is… now. With large steps he walks into the bedroom, she does not see him coming as he puts one gloved hand over her mouth and puts the other arm around her waist, lifting her up and around before he drags her along with him. He can feel the panic crawling up in her, the urgent need to scream, she tries to kick and hit him, struggling to get free. She only manages it because he lets her go. She turns around, ready to fight back and freezes suddenly.  
“You fucking bastard! You prick! You fucking asshole!” She slaps him onto the chest and his arm with the brush.  
He laughs while she insults and yells at him, furious with heavy breathing and red cheeks. Her face is just too funny.  
“You damnit bastard! You’ve scared the shit out of me! I’ve thought that someone broke in and… and… oh gawd…” She takes a deep breath, brushing with her hand through her hair.  
“Don’t worry, the one who manages it to break in won’t live for long. He would drop dread by the time he sets foot on the first stair.”  
“Thank you for informing me now!”  
She knows about his profession, he had been honest from the first moment on. ´What do you work?` `I’m working in a bookstore, I know not really thrilling… and you?` `Hitman.` `Oh… uhm… well… someone has to do it… right…?` He reassured her by saying that his subjects are mostly more evil than he is and are generally greedy bastards. And if someone pays someone a big pile of money for killing you then you really fucked up.  
“You still scared me to death!”  
“Correction, you are not dead, you didn’t even faint.”  
“Prick…”  
He smirks and holding a hand out to her. “Come. I want to show you something.”  
She hesitates before she places her hand into his. She’s dragged with him and wonders why they go into the garage. As he opens the door she knows why. “A new car? Seriously?”  
“It’s not just a new car; it’s a black jaguar f-type coupé. Completely new.”  
“It’s a car.”  
“Sht! She might hear you.”  
She rolls her eyes. “Good. I saw it now; I’m upstairs when you’re finished…” She wants to leave, but he grabs her arm, drawing her closer and pushing her carefully against the car.  
“Oh no. You don’t go anywhere, this here is brand new.”  
“You scared me nearly to death and think I would let you fuck me now?”  
“I was just joking around,” he grins at her and shrugs with his shoulders. With the back of his hand he strokes softly from her temple to her cheek. “You won’t resist long when I’m putting on this voice,” he rumbles. The grin grows as he sees her taking a deep breath, trying to keep control.  
Oh, it’s so unfair! He knows she has a thing for him in those suits, the hair slicked back, leather gloves and the tone of his voice and the grin of a predator on his face… With the index finger, he glides down her neck to her chest and between her breasts, his eyes following his finger. “But I can resist.”  
He looks up to her again. “Okay…” He lets go and steps back. “I’m coming in a few minutes.” He turns away and puts the suit jacket off, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and pretending to be busy with the boot.  
She watches him, gnawing on her bottom lip as he leans forward, bending down to reach into the boot. Rolled up sleeves, leather gloves, tight suit pants… Fuck it. She goes over to him, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him closer, capturing his lips with hers.  
He grins into the kiss, about his second victory of this night. Deepening the kiss, he closes the boot, shoving her around the car and opens the door. His hands wandering beneath her shirt, breaking the kiss to pull it off of her. With this on the floor, he presses his lips again onto hers, kissing them, biting these softly, parting them with his tongue. His hands wandering up and down her sides, only with the fingertips brushing her soft skin, upwards until he cups her breasts. Soft strokes, little squeezes and kneading, encircling her sweet buds with his thumbs until they harden. Again a grin as she lifts one leg to his hip, her hands gripping tight his tie and shoulder, squeezing his upper arms and the soft sighs he elicits from her.  
It’s again he who breaks the kiss only to draw more moans and sighs from her with his tongue at her neck. Hands still stroking up and down her body until she grabs into his hair with one hand, laying her head back and moaning his name. A low grumble comes up from his chest by the thought of her willing body on the smooth red leather of the seats, her scent mixing with the thin one of fir and leather… A growl as her brisk hand reaches down into his pants and grabbing his cock, stroking up and down. Little bites on her neck while she unbuttons his shirt. Always without a shirt, but with his tie still keeping on. He never minds, in fact, he actually likes it when she pulls at it. As she starts to buck her hips against him, arching against him, he pushes down her panties. Getting in first into the car he adjusts the seat, leaning a bit more back. She follows him, sitting down onto his lap and shuts the door.  
Lips crushing against lips, fingers tangled in hair and pulling, little licks and bites, scratches while they fill the car with heir moans and sighs, growls and rumbles. Up and down, back and forth on his hard cock, slick, delicious heat, smooth skin and soft, juicy flesh. The only thing that will ever wear his fingerprints is her sweet flesh where he leaves his marks in the form of tender bruises, sweet love bites and soft scratches. Nothing of these she minds, the contrary. Some of these she wears with pride. Just like he does with the traces of her nails on his back. Oh, it will smell much better afterwards than just simply fir and leather. So much better.


	3. Chapter 3

Stopping in the car park he switches off the engine and leaves the car. Taking a bag out of the boot and locking the car; fishing sunglasses from the inner pocket of the suit jacket and putting these on. Steps echoing from the concrete as he takes his way up to the roof. The only one around here, just how he planned and observed it the last days. As soon as the clock hits the magical 6 on Friday it won’t take ten minutes until this car park is empty like a brothel on a football world championship final. How lucky he is, that is subject works on the weekend. He has no regular finish time, so he prepared himself for a long day. At the edge of the roof, he sits down, taking the automatic rifle out of the back, putting the silencer onto it, resting the gun onto its frame. It’s aiming directly onto the building entrance on the opposite. Sadly he found no opportunity to aim at the bureau of his subject, otherwise he had shot him through this and would have weekend himself now. He reaches again into the bag for the scope, but instead of this he grabs a package of cookies. Those he favours.  
He looks at the package with a smirk. There’s only one next to him with access to his bag and she always complains that he eats and drinks too little on those days. She complained right from the start that when he works he forgets to drink and eat properly. Ah, he remembers it like it was just yesterday. Even on their very first encounter she complaint about it. It was several months ago, he was on duty and followed his subject into a coffee shop, even for his taste too public and too crowded to strike right at the moment. But still he had to observe from a good point… So he bought a cup of tea, what for pricks are buying coffee and tea for 5 pounds a cup and what for even bigger pricks are selling those to this prize, and noted that the best place to observe the subject was already taken.  
She was looking up at him in confusion as he pretended to read the cover of the book she was lost in.  
“Can I help you?”  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he placed a hand onto his chest, put on the most charming smile he was able to. “I don’t want to be rude. I just noticed that there is written Nietzsche on the cover and was wondering what kind of sweet lady would read an author who said ´God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How do we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?`” He saw the surprise in her eyes that someone quoted the most famous quote of Nietzsche correctly.  
“Uhm… well…”  
“May I?” He gestured to the chair opposite of her. “I really don’t want to disturb a fine young lady in her studies of great philosophers, but it seems whole London came here together.” Puppy eyes and an apologising smile helping him that she nodded. “Thank you very much. That’s so kind of you.”  
“No problem,” she smiled as he sat down and placed the paper cup in front of him. For a whole hour they talked about Nietzsche while he constantly looked at the subject out of the corner of his eyes. After said hour she crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaned back. “You’re drinking too little.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“You haven’t taken a single sip since you sat down. It’s not good to talk this much and not drinking, the human body needs at the minimum 2 litres of liquid. And you always look over, is there something interesting to be seen?”  
He rushed to place his hand onto hers as she wanted to turn around. With question she looked first at his hand and then at him. “What is your job? What do you work for?”  
“Uhm… I am working in a bookstore, I know not thrilling but… why? What do you work for?”  
“I’m a hitman. A hired killer, contract murderer, assassin, whatever you like to call it. Yes, I am not here for the overpriced coffee and impolite service. I’m here because the subject I follow decided to take a nice hot beverage before I turn him into dust. Sadly it would draw too much attention if I would shoot his brain out of his skull right here. So I have to wait, but many thanks, you sweeten the waiting,” he winks.  
“Uhm… uh… well…” She was baffled, of course. It’s not usual that you drink a tea with a hitman who’s about to fulfil a job… “Everybody has to work for his money, right? And… someone… has to do… the nasty ones… right?” Maybe it was his soothing voice, his handsome face or his charming smile, maybe a combination of that all or simply a smart mind that thought he could also kill her if she jumped up and would scream.  
“Right. And if someone pays someone a big pile of money in cash to kill you, then you really fucked up. Don’t worry, darling, my subjects really fucked up and are all greedy little bastards that aren’t worth the scum of this earth. Also, everybody has a talent. Some can play violin, some can dance, others can sing…”  
“And… others… can kill…”  
“Right,” he grinned. Another look over to his subject. “You don’t need to worry, I have no reason to harm you, the contrary.”   
“Because you don’t get money for me?”  
He laughed lowly. “Amongst other things, yes. But if you wait a few minutes I would drive you home as a thank you for sweetening the waiting for me.”  
He thought he saw something like excitement and a thirst for adventure glistening in her eyes as she said “I’ll wait five minutes.”  
“I only need two.” He only needed one minute at the end until he returned and kept his promise. Needless to say that it didn’t stay only with a ride home.  
Now, five hours and an empty package of cookies later, he aims at the entrance of the building, concentrated for his subject finally leaves it. Stopping at the entrance, talking with a colleague… One, two, three… A shot is not to be heard as the victim hits the ground after a shot in the back of his head.  
He dissembles his riffle and puts everything back into the bag, closing the zipper and leaves with it the rooftop, going down into the car park. Unlocking the car, placing the bag in the boot and taking his place behind the wheel. Now his weekend officially starts.


	4. Chapter 4

She stares at the ceiling, trying to gain her breath again. Wow. What for a ride… The one with the car and well… “I usually don’t do that.”  
“What? Taking a stranger with you home and fuck him or do said things with a hitman?”  
She giggles. “Actually all of this. I usually never do any of this. And you?”  
“Does masturbating count?”  
“No.”  
“Then is the answer no. I never took a hitman with me home and fucked him. I always left him at the door.”  
Again she giggles. Oh god, what is she even doing here? Flirting? Laughing? Sex? With a professional killer?! Her mother would drop dead if she would know… No. She wouldn’t care really, in fact, she would be like ´Oh dear Lord, finally a possible boyfriend and he also got a job, praise the Lord!`.  
“But I am honoured that I could fill your life with one experience more.”  
“Only one? I don’t know how it is with you, but for me it has been at least two.  
He grins at her and props up on his elbows. “I could make it three.”  
“Now?”  
“Now, in five minutes, one hour, two days, here, the bathroom, a hotel, my car,” he shrugs with his shoulders. “But have you ever considered doing it in a car? Preferable in a Jaguar?”  
“You like your car really much, hm?”  
“It’s not simply a car, it’s perfection!”  
“Maybe you can convince me that it’s more than just a car?”  
“Is this an invitation?”  
His smirk and wink are doing things with her.  
“…Maybe.”  
“When I play nice? Oh, I can play very nice…” He bends over her, slipping with one hand beneath the blanket.  
Those slim hands with the long and skilful fingers she came to know in the last hour. A little sigh slips her lips as he strokes the sensitive insides of her thighs, taking a deep breath while watching him in the eyes. Sharp, a mixture of blue with a bit green. Fitting well to the handsome face with cheekbones British actors would kill for and the jaw line of a god. A little tremble goes down her spine by the stern look of him and the fingers that are caressing her lower stomach and the thighs. She’s insane for doing it. She’s completely insane for… Oh god, her thoughts are drifting off as he teases her with his fingertips. She’s not religious, but oh god! Before more could happen, she reaches into the nightstand, finds it empty and excuses herself as she rushes into the bathroom. She’s insane, but not stupid.  
While she’s busy in the bathroom searching for the right protection his phone vibrated. He rolls his eyes with an annoyed sigh as he fishes it out of his pile of clothes and sees who tries to phone him. Ugh, always when it starts to get funny. As if he’s the only hitman in whole London… The sad prize you have to pay for being simply the best…  
Finally she found one, but stops in the doorway as she sees him fixing the cufflinks, already nearly dressed. Standing in front of the mirror of her closet, he fixed his tie, stroking his hair back before he sits down on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes.  
“I’m sorry dear,” he says while looking up to her, “Nothing would I like more than to fuck you senseless but I’ve got a job to do. The curse of modern communication nowadays if you ask me.” He rises up, putting on his suit jacket and walking over to her. “Something urgent, hope you can forgive? If not, I know where you live,” he smirks at her with a murmur and gives a slap onto her bum. “So you can bet that sweet, delicious thing of yours onto it that I am going to make up for it. I don’t tell you when and where and how, I promise it will happen.” He actually wanted to take his leave but stops in the floor.  
She feels stupid standing naked in the doorway with a condom in her hands and looks at him in confusing as he came back and picking the condom from her fingers, putting this into the chest pocket of his jacket with a smug grin. “Dress up.”  
“What?”  
“Dress up, now. It’s a quick job, a little afternoon race to the airport; I’ll show you why my car is perfect and what I tend to do after a successful ride with it.”  
“But… I…”  
“It’s okay, you’re my guest and you look like you have a certain lust for adventure. Forget all the James Bond and Indiana Jones and fluffy pinky Edwards and Darcys. Trust me; it’s always more fun with the bad guys.”  
She gnaws at her bottom lip and hesitates. She guesses it would be an adventure she would truly never forget, but wouldn’t that make her a accomplice? But… when she looks away?  
“I’ll give you 5 seconds to dress, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. 5… 4…”  
She heads to her pile of clothes and rushes to put on her panties and jeans. He takes the bra from her as she wants to put it on, rushes to get on her shirt. “3… 2…”  
A short glance into the mirror to brush with her fingers through her hair. “I look like I’ve been fucked.”  
“Haven’t you?” She smiles at him; the smirk makes her cheek blushing. “I… I don’t even know your name and now I… accompany you…”  
“Well, calling me god the last hour was pretty appealing to me.”  
“I mean…”  
“You’re Sarah.” He leans against her closet. “Born on the 22nd September 1986. You have a Facebook, Twitter and Whatsapp account, you rarely use Facebook and Twitter, but you’re pretty active on Whatsapp. You work in the Waterbend and Son bookstore in the Fleet Street. Your last purchase on Amazon was a book about, I thought of it quite delicious, about the history of sex in the ancient Rome. Last weekend you have been in the National Gallery, do you like Rembrandt? Yeah, all go nuts here for Turner but I also prefer Rembrandt. Did the cupcakes go out as planned?”  
She’s completely baffled. What the…  
He chuckles by her face. “I’m sorry, but it’s all in your phone. Oh man… people have really no clue… Your name is on the mailbox, in the corridor, hangs a picture of you obviously on your birthday, a banner was in the background and the date on the pic. You have a sweet little wall of art,” he nods towards it over her dressing table where she obviously keeps tickets to museums and theatres, playbills, flyers, little beautiful pictures from magazines. “In the corridor on the drawer is the Amazon package with date… also your last settlement from your wage. Also there is the paper of a used cupcake on the drawer, no brand but a lot of baking books in your kitchen. Don’t worry, I did not hack your phone, I didn’t had the time to break the pin… And really, everybody has those accounts on their phone nowadays. This I was just guessing,” he shrugs with his shoulders. “You don’t look like those shallow people who would use these 24/7. Don’t be surprised; what for a hitman would I be when I couldn’t observe?” He turns around, waiting at the door for her. “Are you coming? This way or another?”  
She stumbles as she puts on her shoes, grabbing her bag and the keys and leaves her apartment.  
Now she knows 1. What speed really is. 2. How many traffic lights and radar traps you can pass buy with a speed of 260 HP. 3. How hard one can floor the gas pedal to reach 260 HP. 4. That the Jaguar can even manage it to reach 300 HP. And 5. Why it is so damn important to always put the seatbelt on. It was like a wild ride in a roller coaster and she had to laugh herself at some point, probably only the adrenaline pulsing through her. She didn’t even recognized how he actually fulfilled his job, she was busy with not suddenly jerking from one side to the other by his sharp pulls of the wheel. But this way or another it was the best ride of her life.


	5. Chapter 5

They called him for there is a mole that needs to be extinguished. Already fleet to Cuba, thinking he could escape. What for a bloody idiot. Thinking he could steal information and money and big old buddy Castro would welcome him with a big hug? Twat…  
She fishes her phone out of her pocket to take a look at the message she got. She rolls with her eyes and texting him back what the dick pic should be.  
´Look closer.`  
`I know what your dick looks like.´  
`Closer. Don’t you see something unusual? Swimming trunks maybe?´  
`Do you work today in a swimming hall? Have been the swimmers for the Olympics such a disappointment?´  
`I just say: A burning sweet liquid and a long delicious cigar ;) ´  
`Stop talking about your dick.´  
`I was talking about Cuba… I know the world does not orb around me. Only you ;) ´  
`You mean your dick and money, the only important things at a man.´  
`Uh, what happened to the nice, lovely librarian?´  
`Do you mean the one who spanked you or the one who chained you?´  
`Touché. But I was really talking about Cuba. Forget everything, even the bikini.´  
`…´  
`Should they all see the riches of European women.´  
`Beause you would get arrested anyway for showing your dick.´  
`Probably.´  
It was the first time that he ever took her with him to accompany him, to spend the weekend with him outside of London and then Cuba, jackpot! He already moaned that he couldn’t take his car with him and taking a taxi to the airport and no way that his precious baby will stand two days at the airport. And of course the ride with the taxi was too slow. She also worried for his utensils as they passed the security check, but the sneaky fox he is not a single alarm went off.  
“I never sat first class.”  
“Nothing special here, a bit more space, free drinks, that’s it.”  
“And it’s really okay to take me with you?”  
“I declare the costs for you as charges.” He turns his gaze at her as he feels her stern look. “What?”  
“You can be really a dick sometimes…”  
“What?”  
He was for a moment puzzled as through the other passengers a face walked by he thought he would have seen somewhere already… He searches for his phone. “I need your hand mirror.”  
Without asking she reaches into her bag and gives him it. In those moments she does not even ask anymore.  
With the mirror and his phones he checks the face, the look and his grin tells her that an extra payment is going to be all-inclusive.  
“Not on the plane, I dare you, not on the plane, don’t even think about it.”  
“I’m not stupid, really… There’s enough time at the airport.”  
With a groan she lays her head in the neck.

“Vincent Vega.”  
“And Mia Wallace.”  
With a wide grin both are putting their passports onto the counter of the reception. With the keys they walk up into their room.  
How lucky she was that his next job chose to spend the rest of his life in Havanna. “Be honest, you only come with me because in one of those cafés is your next subject.”  
“Havanna is really nice… Lovely cars…”  
She rolls with her eyes. “But they’re not fast.”’  
“But beautiful. Just look at them, so stylish. That was a damn good time for the automobile industry.”  
“How about I go some shopping and you look for whatever you need? Alright? You can search for who brings you money and nice cars and I look at all the fine old buildings and trying to get you something nice to drink. Okay?”  
“For the evening,” he grins.  
“If you play nice.”  
“I always play nice.”  
“When I let you,” she grins, blows a kiss at him and takes her leave.  
He looks after her before he goes straight into the café he knows his victim spends his time there. He drank a tea, read a newspaper and waited in said café. Waited for one hour. Waited a few minutes more until his subject went off to the restrooms to which he follows.  
“Pretty bold to steal information and money. Did you really think they wouldn´t find you?” He stops next to him and relieves himself. A grin spreads across his face as he sees how pale his neighbour gets suddenly. “You were probably taking a piss just like now as god handed intelligence…”  
“You’re the maniac… oh god…”  
He laughs lowly, finishes. “There’s only one maniac here and the other one has a gun.” Which he is drawing right now. “Never call the one with the gun a maniac. You’re making it just worse. But actually I should thank you.” He lowers the gun again. Hope flickers in the eyes of his opponent. “Thanks to your bullshit plan I got to spend a bit time with my darling girl in the lovely Havanna. Nice place, have you seen the cars? You have for sure seen the cars around here, right? Are they not stylish? This is a fucking treasure vault, all those old-timers, damnit! I consider this city now really for my sunset years. I have to thank you!” With a laugh and a grin he slaps him friendly onto the shoulder. “And my darling likes it here too; you know she has a thing for old-fashioned stuff. A bit too sunny but one can’t have all, right?”  
Without a warning a bullet hits his victim right between the eyes.  
“But I am very close to it.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was completely dark as the young man entered his apartment. A local failure of the electricity. Fucking bastards. Why is he even paying always these high electric bills when this shit fails this way or another? Bastards. With his phone he brings a bit light into the darkness, just enough to not stumble over furnitures. He shuts the door, ignoring the fuse panel in the floor, walking straight into his living room. He doesn’t remember to have closed the curtains. Did he close the curtains? He’s not sure anymore. He thought he didn’t have…  
Suddenly a lamp is turned on. Instead of being relieved that the electricity works again, he jumps backwards in shock as somebody sat in his armchair, turned around to him with his cat resting on his lap.  
“I’ve been expecting you,” he says in a dark voice before he breaks out in laughter. “Sorry… I always wanted to say that! I couldn’t resist.”  
The owner of the apartment looks in confusion at his unwelcome guest. What the… “Who…”  
“Oh, how rude of me, I am really sorry. You know Ben and Mark? Come on, everybody knows Benny and Markie. Usually it’s impossible to meet one without the other lurking around nearby. Operas here, Charity Galas there… like a gay couple if you ask me. I already asked them when they would make it official now that same-sex marriages are legal but I guess shooting six bullets at someone is the universal language for no.”  
“Who the fuck are you? What are you talking about? What are you doing here? I haven’t anything!”  
“Are you sure that you did not embezzle a shitload of money? You know, they can get really pissy if someone steals from them. And it’s also very stupid. You could have guessed that they would send me to get shit done… I was just nearby and so I thought, why not,” he shrugs with his shoulders.  
“I don’t have anything, not a single cent, nothing!”  
“Come on Tony, don’t lie to me. I hate it when people lie to me and try to take me for stupid. It makes me really angry. Better play along Tony and I will maybe only shoot you in one knee.” Slowly he stands up, places the cat on the chair as he sees his opponent drawing backwards to the bookshelf where he hide behind it his rifle. Really, that’s so lame… He would murder to have once one on his level… ha-ha, murder! “Don’t make something stupid, Tony. Benny and Markie are already very disappointed in you.”  
“I have nothing!”  
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Be a good boy and let the riffle in peace. You embezzled a shitload of money from them, lost half of it in a Casino and spend the rest of it in Cocaine. And they send me now because they can trust me 100%. Now give me the money and your cat.”  
“…My cat?”  
“It’s a nice creature. My girl always wanted a cat. This here is really a beautiful one. It will love her, trust me, she’s in good care with her. She’s really good with pets. I’m speaking out of own experience;” he grins.  
Before Tony could grab his rifle he shoots once, the bullet scrapes his hand and with a hot pain he jerks it back. Before a second shot could be fired, he gets tackled by Tony, both wrestle over the gun, stumble over a sofa and falling over it. Grunts and huffing breathes echoing through the room, dull sounds and fists and feet hitting and kicking against the sofa, onto the floor and against the table, a vase falls over until a shot is fired.  
He stands up, stroking his hair back and smoothing his clothes again. “Twat… I’ll take your cat anyway…” He puts his gun away. “It could have been so easy, but no. You needed to play the stupid fucker. Fuck you, Tony.” He takes a deep breath and an annoyed sound leaves his lips as his shirt is splattered with blood. He kicks the corpse of Tony into his guts. “You bloody prick! That was one of my favourite shirts!” Another kick before he scans the walls, shelves and the floor, beneath the bed and drawers until he found money what was left, stuffing everything into his bag next to a few toys and utensils cat before he took the pet at last onto his arm. “You agree that Tony was an ass, right,” he asks the cat. “You’ll get a new one. Not a new Tony. I mean a new owner. You will love her. She will love you. And most of all she will love for bringing you with me,” he grins.


	7. Chapter 7

He has off on Sundays. Sundays are his free days. Even a contract killer needs one day per week off. And despite Hollywood and their portrayal of hired killers and their hobbies, he does not spend all his free time with cleaning and polishing his guns. Like for example cleaning and polishing his car. Just kidding! Reading a good book, watching a football game when he’s lucky enough and his favourite team plays, simply watching TV, he really does on Sunday boring, ordinary things.  
“You are fucking kidding me.”  
He looks up from his newspaper and turns his gaze at the white shirt with blood stains. “No. If I would be kidding you it would look different.”  
“Asshole… how should I get these out? Tell your customers they should stop bleeding…”  
“I will next time, promise.”  
“You do your laundry on your own the next time.”  
“I’ll also do yours.”  
“Laundry includes more than lingerie…”  
“Now I know why you always wash my clothes,” he gasps in shock. “You only want to see and touch my cute little panties in pastel with bows and little kittens. You pervert.”  
She turns around to him, her face an expression of deadly seriousness before she walks back into the kitchen to continue the laundry.

“I know, she needs to work on her humour,” he nods at the cat next to him, continues to read the newspaper. He does the crossword, they make dinner, tidying up… usual, boring things they do on Sundays.  
It’s the late afternoon as she cleans up the bedroom and puts on new bedclothes, smoothes the blankets and pillows. Shortly she throws a glance over her shoulder as he puts his arms around her waist from behind and his lips on her neck.  
“Is it even worth the effort,” he murmurs against her skin, spreading little kisses over it. “We both know it won’t stay like this for long.”  
“That’s what you say.”  
“Do you really have in mind to resist me,” he whispers between kisses, gliding with his lips from one side to the other of her neck, loosening the bun of her hair, wandering with one hand into her hair. The other one goes up and down her side, beneath her shirt.  
“And if I have?”  
“Then we will do the nasty things another time.”  
“So… do you have in mind just nasty things or really nasty things?”  
He lets go of her and turns her around to face him. The coy smirk on her lips, the mischievous shimmer in her eyes… He takes a step back and opens his arms in a wide embracing gesture with a grin on his face. “I am all yours. Do with me whatever you want.”  
“More like whatever you want, hm?”  
“As long as you’re firm enough, I am your obedient slave.”  
“So, the really nasty things are it today.” Her smirk grows into a grin as she goes over to the closet. “Don’t you think you wear a bit much clothes for it? Fewer clothes mean more fun.”  
“You’re right, as always.”  
“I know.” She looks up and down on him as he gets rid of his shirt and sweatpants. She licks her lips before she turns to the black box in the lowest shelf of the closet.  
“You could do the thing with the riding crop from last time, which was pretty thrilling. And you know what? Maybe we should go shopping again, I saw lately something very nice as I was browsing through the internet. You will like it, this way or another. And how about…” He was stopped in his speaking with a snaffle she was putting suddenly between his teeth.  
“You talk too much,” she smiles. Even with the snaffle in his mouth, she can see the wide grin on his face. Telling her how much this is to his liking and that he waits with anticipation for what’s more to come. “Why don’t you be a good boy and help me to prepare everything a bit while I go into the bathroom for a little change, hm?”  
He nods at her words, a grumble leaves him as she ruffles through his hair with a ´Good boy` and a kiss on his cheek. He watches after her as she walks over into the bathroom with a pile of clothes. What she’s going to wear? Maybe that little lacquer thing he likes so much on her. Or the lingerie he brought her lately. Oh, he would murder right on the spot when she wears a corset and his favourite pair of shoes. For that sight, he would even abandon his beloved car. Maybe because it’s Sunday?  
As she returned, he already put on the sheet of satin onto the bed and took out the robe they always use. Like the good boy he pretends to be from time to time he sits on the edge of the bed, holding his hands to her as she enters again, although he takes a heavy breath as he sees her with nothing on but his favourite shoes and a riding crop in her hands. This is going to be a good Sunday… 

She walks over to him with a smile on her face. The shoes are anyway the most important he wishes her to wear. Everything else would never get as much attention from him as the shoes. “Wow, such a good boy… are you sure that I need to give you a little lesson?”  
He nods fierce.  
“And if I don’t?”  
He takes out the snaffle. “Then I will…”  
“Ahahahah…” She puts the snaffle back into its place. “Have I allowed you this? Not that I remember. I guess I need to correct my earlier statement, you’re not a good boy.” She sees again his grin, the glistening in his eyes. Yes, that’s to his liking. To be the bad boy that needs a lesson from a naked woman in lacquer high heels with a riding crop. This she put aside, taking the rope from him and binding his hands at his wrists together. She had read one book after the other as he told her of this kink of his. She even visited a course to learn how to handle a rope correctly. His hands are his capital, not to imagine if she would do it wrong and injuring a nerve or blood vessel. She was a nervous wreck the first time they tried it together. The kink is more important than the actual act of sex and if she would have ruined it, disappointing him, then probably he would never again try it with her. The first times he talked her through it, gave her hints, told her what to do and how, patiently with understanding for it was completely new to her. But then she got to know how useful and practical muzzles are. With one of these it’s the only time of the day that he shuts up. Really, even in his sleep, he talks sometimes… He’s bubbling and bubbling and bubbling. His personal record in shutting up on his own lies by 11 minutes and 34 seconds. When he’s not talking with her, he talks either with himself or with the cat.  
With the snaffle in his mouth, the hands bound together, the anticipation grows within him, the excitement of what follows. She grew so good in this game… His sweet mistress. When she stands in front of him in those lovely shoes, not walking but floating in them, when she lets the crop raining playfully down into her hand, tucking and pulling at the rope around his wrists… He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes with relish as she strokes with the crop over his legs, up his thighs. He tenses as she wonders higher. Even through the satin of his boxer he can feel it. A little grumble leaves him, he opens the eyes again and looking right at her.  
There it is already, the look of a predator in his eyes, a hungry predator. He knows that she gives him what he wants and she knows also very well what he gives her then. It’s a win-win situation for both of them. She gnaws at her bottom lip as she strokes again with the crop over his crotch and sees him tensing, hearing him rumbling.  
“On your knees. Now.” She always tries to sound harsh when she commands. But at the same time she thinks of herself as a fool when she does so for being naked only with shoes on. Nevertheless he listens and gets down onto the floor on his knees. “Good boy.” He straightens up a bit more with that compliment. She walks around him and he moves uneasily as she tickles his feet with the crop. Yes, he his ticklish. But that’s not why he moves uneasily. He only does so to get what he wants. A soft blow with the crop she gives him on the soles of his feet. The more he moves against her orders the more blows he gets where he wants them.  
Suddenly she grabs into his hair, just long enough that it gives away the hint of curls he would have if he would let it grow only a few inches more. She pulls his head back, looking down onto him. Again that grin despite the snaffle. A sigh as she pulls again at his hair. At some point she demanded him to stand up just to get his boxers off. He’s a hitman, a professional contract killer, some call him a maniac, absurd, irrational, brutal but when she stands in front of him in high heels with which she could stab someone right through his heart and the riding crop in her hand he drops to his knees immediately.  
By now she puts the crop aside, freeing his hands again as he’s satisfied with this lesson. As soon as his hands are free and she took the snaffle away, he grabs her and pulls her closer, closing her mouth with his.  
She presses herself against him, sighs and closes her eyes, trembles with his growling voice and getting weak knees as he grabs suddenly between her thighs. He pushes her onto the bed, getting onto his knees again in front of the bed. With her legs over his shoulders, he pulls her closer. Another grumble, again a tucking at his hair, firm pulling as he kisses and licks, sucks and blowing his breath onto her skin.  
On her back with closed eyes, only feeling his hands and fingers, wet lips and tongue of his, hot breath. He’s a genius with his fingers and tongue. It doesn’t take long until she feels dizzy, bucking her hips against his mouth, sighing and moaning his name. He only teases her long enough, bringing her far enough that she’s on the edge of climaxing. Just like she does it with him. That’s how he repays her, more likely thanks her. Giving her as much pleasure as she gave him.  
“You smell so good… you taste so delicious,” he murmurs as he kisses his way upwards.  
“You should… keep the muzzle on… more often,” she pants.  
He chuckles lowly. “Then train me better…”  
“I’m not sure… I guess I would miss… the background noises…”  
Another chuckle with his low voice as he puts one of her legs over his shoulder, bending down to close her lips with his own.  
She feels him hard and ready, he feels her wet and needy and both have in mind to satisfy each other completely now.


	8. Chapter 8

He floors the gas pedal and fastens up to 200 bhp. The grin on his lips widens, a maniac glistening sneaks into his eyes. The grip on the wheel tightens with the unique creaking sound of his leather gloves. Sharp white light shines on the dark street ahead of them, trees, lamplights, parking cars are passing by at the windows like flashes, all blurry through the speed. Only the little red lights from the gauges on the panel enlighten the inside of the car. The dim red light and the play of shadows on his face, mixed with his grin, turning his usual handsome face into a demonic grimace. Especially when he slightly turns his face at her and grins, showing his white teeth.  
He likes it when she accompanies him from time to time. Only when he knows that it will be a short trip. Nothing complicated or anything dangerous, just for the very easy jobs. To be honest the rides with his car all alone were getting very boring at some point. Also this speed is a pretty turn on for him just like a job done successfully and well when she’s with him… She also does not mind when he does his job. His little adventuress. He even taught her by now how to hold a gun and how to fire one. You may never know and it’s useful knowledge. At least in his eyes.  
She gets a little heart attack everytime when he takes off his hand from the wheel just like now, only to unlock his favourite gun. A sort of pistol, she has no clue, all shooting weapons are in her eyes pistols. Looks like steel, like always with a silencer put on. In the bright light of the headlights, she can see then, how he likes to call them, subject. On a motorbike, trying to get as far away as fast as possible. One of these modern high speed things, but still not fast enough for her lovers beloved car. Smoothly he drives onto the right side. He would drive into the roadside ditch if he would go to the other side to shoot him from his window.  
“Would you please open the window my dear?”  
Silently she rolls down the window on her side. She fears not at all that he could hit her per accident sitting so close with a gun pointing so close next to her. He’s a too good of a marksman for shooting someone per accident. His gun makes no sound when he shoots a bullet, but still, somehow out of reflex, she closes her eyes and keeps them shut when he does so. His curse is making her opening her eyes again, looking irritated from the subject still on his motorbike and back to him.  
“These fucking modern high tech helmets, fuck this bloody bullshit!” He looks onto the street, teeth gritting, and anger in his face. He never, never ever, misses a shot! Never!  
Again she looks from one to the other and shortly she opens the door. The subject could make up a few meters, but that does not matter as her lover floors the gas pedal again. Shortly she simply opens the door at her side and close enough, she kicks the victim against his knee, taking in her leg again and closes the door.  
He looks at her. Looks out of the window. Again at her. He wouldn’t have thought that… well… she’s always good for a surprise. The subject lost control over his bike through the kick and the sharp pain the heel of her shoe gave him, staggers and with a sound of breaking bones and crashing metal he crashes right into the roadside ditch. “He won’t have survived this. Not even with the helmet on,” she says as she leans a bit out of the window and looking back. “He’s buried beneath the bike and until someone will find him and calling an ambulance…” She sits back. “Do you also get paid when your victim does not have a bullet from you anywhere inside his body?” He grins at her and someone could get afraid by that grin but not she. “What? What is it? Do we now go home, please?””  
“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”  
“Well… you were always looking at the car when you said that. And now please turn your eyes onto the street again. I know you’re a damn good driver, but I would feel more comfortable when you look onto the street with more than 200 bhp.” Actually he never said directly at her that he would love her. Liking, yes. Dropping on his knees for her when she wears his favourite shoes, yes. But he never used the word love. To be fair, she also never used that. It’s such a big word… For some it’s just a word, but for her it’s also a bit scary.  
“Sarah, I love you. I’m honest, I wouldn’t have expected that and you just gave me such a hard boner.”  
She rolls with her eyes. She expected some sort of love confession as he started, not that. Still she smiles at him. “You’re driving now over 220 bhp, it’s not that hard for you to get a boner at this pace…”  
“But it’s always hard when I’m with you,” he winks. “´Cause of you. For you.”  
She giggles lowly, shaking her head slightly. He turned her life upside down completely, but she does not regret it. It just got more thrilling. She feels how he lowers the pace, getting off the gas and stopping at the roadside. He turns off the engine, turns off the headlights. So far on the outside of the city, there aren’t even street lamps anymore. The last one they passed a few hundred meters ago. Only the moon with his silver-blue light helps out a bit now.  
She looks at him as he turns towards her.  
“I really meant what I said. I mean, not the thing about my boner. The other thing.”  
“The thing about liking me very, very much?”  
“Yeah… that thing,” he says with a crooked smile, reaching out with one arm and stroking carefully a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m really impressed by what you just did. I always knew that a woman can kill with such heels.”  
“Well, you would have got a heart attack when I would have slammed the door into his side,” she smirks.  
“How could you even think about that?”  
She laughs lowly. “See, that’s why I used my heel.”  
“You’re so thoughtful.” He pulls her softly closer, leans at the same time over to her.  
As he closes her lips with his own she shuts her eyes with a small sigh, leans more into the hand he rests on her cheek. Yes, he can also have his soft sides and moments and is only not soft with her when she wants it like this. Despite his strange sense of humour, he never treated her wrong.  
She’s very good by now to unlock the safety belt and crawl onto his lap in one swift move. With every time she got better and better. One hand rests on his chest, on the lapel of his suit jacket, the other one glides from his neck up into his hair, dishevelling it. She loves his hair, loves it when he grows it long enough that she can see that he usually has curls by nature. Grabbing into and pulling at his hair belongs to her favourite hobbies. Straddling him, her knees softly pushing into his sides, she can truly feel him rock hard. The magic of adrenaline and speed. She feels his hands lying firm on her thighs, feeling the soft, smooth leather of his gloves, wandering beneath her skirt and up to her buttock. She always wears a skirt when he takes her with him for a ride. That makes it less complicated.  
Lips locked, sweet small kisses grew longer and more passionate. Little licks are involved, little nibbles at bottom lips. He tastes like peppermint; she tastes like sweet cherry for her lip balm. Small growls when she pulls at his hair, tiny sighs when he grabs her flesh, kneading it gently, almost massaging it.  
Breathes become heavier as she pulls his shirt out of his trouser, gliding with one hand beneath it, feeling his naked warm skin, the lean muscles beneath it… She feels how he moves beneath her uneasy, desires her hand in his pants but mostly he desires more than just her hand.  
She takes a deep breath as he lets go of her lips, trailing with these down to her chin, spreading kisses over her neck. With the hand in his hair, she keeps him there, gnawing on her bottom lip while he sucks the thin skin between his teeth. Shudders running down her spine with every growl, with every little suck and lick, his hot breath on the wet spots and his marks he leaves on her skin, when he grinds against her to let her feel what waits for her, how much he wants her.  
He lets go of her neck, drawing his head back and takes a hand off her. First she looks irritated at him, but then sees how he gets rid of his glove by pulling it off with his teeth. Oh, that always looks so hot…  
Hot is also what he thinks of he sees her face as he went with his bare hands between her thighs, stroking with the index finger over the little damp spot of her panty, shoving it aside to feel her warm flesh. Red cheeks, eyes closed the o-shaped lips and the face an expression of bliss…  
She kisses the spot where his jaw line melts with his neck, her hands wanders straight into his pants. A tremble as he moans a heavy breath as he moves against her hand. Now it’s only a matter of seconds until she takes him out and letting herself down on him properly with a lustful sound.  
He leans his head in the neck, already now it’s a relief to feel her silky muscles capturing him. He likes her on top, likes her straddling him, looking down onto him, holding on onto his shoulders, moving up and down on him, back and forth, when she breaks him in like a steed…  
The look of his half closed eyes when he puts a hand at her neck and pulling her down to crush his lips against hers. Lustful kisses and panting breathes, sighs and whimpers, moans and groans are filling the car. His hard cock filling her, again and again, his low grumbling voice, dark and smooth like liquid chocolate… oh gawd… He knows how and where to touch her, where to kiss her, when he has to move… Only a few minutes like this and she leans her head against his, trying to gain her breath again slowly just like he does. It’s silent between them with except of their panting breath. Relaxing, enjoying the sweet aftermath. Until a flashlight and a knock against the window lets her shrieking and hiding her face in the crook of his neck.  
He chuckles first before he clears his voice and rolls down the window. “Good evening, Sir. How may I help you? Lost your way? Just admiring the delight this beauty of chrome and carbon is?”  
“Evenin´. I would admire it more when you would turn on the warning signals. Not very healthy on a dark street with no lights on… not that someone… bumps into you.”  
He chuckles. “Yeah… that would be a disaster, right?”  
She is too embarrassed to look up. Why for fucks sake, by all demons in hell, does a policeman needs to knock against their window when they for once stop on a deserted street to have a few minutes of fun?!  
“Your licence and car documents, Sir.”  
“Yes, Sir,” he salutes and reaches into the glove box, taking both out and hands it to the police officer.  
“Vincent Vega?”  
“Yeah, you know, my parents are very huge fans of the works of Quentin Tarantino, Pulp Fiction is their favourite one and they changed their last name to Vega and thought it as very funny and honouring to name their first born after one of their characters and well, what should I say, even my parents thought it as inappropriate to name their son Mia or Honey Bunny, so I have to live with Vincent.”  
“…Aha…”  
“Do I… have to pay now a penalty or something like that? Just because, well, it’s getting a bit chilly,” he grins and softly patting her buttocks with his bare hand.  
She could slap and beat him right now…  
“I promise to never do it again, Sir. Well… not this here,” he laughs and gestures at her. “But the stopping without lights on a lonely road for a ride thing. Really, I promise, I’m going to be a good boy and if not she will make me,” he grins with a wink.  
For the own personal taste of the police officer, he talks way too much and it’s way too late to deal with such a blabber… and hey, who could say no to the chance of a little ride? Right?  
“Alright… this time it only stays with a warning, Mr. Vega. Lights on the next time.”  
“Promise, Sir.” He grins and waves at the officer before putting back his documents and rolling up the widow again.  
“You fucking asshole!”  
He laughs, even as she hits him against the upper arm and shoulder.  
“That was so embarrassing!”  
“I thought of it as pretty funny.”  
“For fucks sake… what if…”  
“Nothing happened, he saw nothing, he will see nothing.” He turns on the lights. “Everything’s alright. And now we ride home, okay? Hey, we could stop at a drive through and get some chicken nuggets, I’m hungry.”  
She rolls with her eyes; an annoyed sigh leaves her lips. Sometimes, just sometimes…


	9. Chapter 9

He just wanted to get down onto the edge of the bed to lay back, sneak up beneath the blanket and wrapping himself around the hot woman that already lies there and sleeps. He just got home, took a small snack and a shower, just finished another job. A job he likes to forget quickly. He may be a little psycho and a maniac, but even he had a few rules and three hours ago he broke one of them. For once he isn’t proud of his work.  
He just sat down as the doorbell rang. It’s shortly before 4 am, what the fuck? “You go,” he hears a murmur, “You’re the man. Only creepers ring at doors in the middle of the night.”  
“I’ll be right back,” he sighs.  
She lowers the blanket as he goes and she can hear his footsteps on the stairs, looking after him. The sigh irritates her. He never sighs, well only when they’re both naked, and he’s way too calm…  
He walks down the stairs, again the doorbell rings, it knocks fierce against the door. A short look to the picture the security cam gives him tells him that he knows the face. Always only the second one in charge, never the number one. He unlocks the door, opens it and gets a fist right into his face.  
“Bloody imbecile. I know always knew that you’re an insane maniac, but I never thought of you being this stupid.”  
“Mornin´ Sir, how are you, well I am fine with the exception of my bloody nose, but why don’t you come in for a tea when you’re already here?” He tries to stop the bleeding of his nose with one hand pressed in front of it, closes the door as Mr. Strong stepped inside. He leads him into the kitchen, damping a towel and putting it onto his neck to stop the bleeding. He does not really mind, he had been through worse.  
“A bloody bazooka? That’s your idea of discreet?”  
“It was fast…”  
“It screamed ´Hello! Someone, probably my husband, paid someone to kill me`.”  
“But it was fast.”  
“And how should your sense of fast and discreet be explained?”  
“Terrorists;” he shrugs with his shoulders.  
“Terrorists?… You’re serious?”  
“Listen, one of my rules has always been: No women. Guess which rule I had to break today. She was dead in an instant. It was fast, the car burned out right? A fast death and the elimination of all possible evidences. A car crash, she would have gotten a few broken bones, probably living and suffocating for five minutes until she died or bleed to death. He told me to kill her, he never said how.”  
“Do you have no respect for…”  
“I don’t have any respect left for a man who hires me to kill his wife out of fear to lose his face in a divorce. So yeah, not my problem how he wants to explain her death by a bazooka. Isn’t that not to his liking? Saying it was the Russians or these weird guys from the Near East? Proclaiming it as an act of terror, feeding the fear of the people? That’s his style, right? So what. Is there anything left or can I go the fuck to sleep now?”  
“Don’t act as if you can do and say everything. People vanish from the surface of this planet every day.”  
“Says the lapdog of the big boss… anything else?”  
“Don’t push your luck too hard, boy… the payback might come sooner than you could wish. I advise you to not fuck up too much…”  
With gladness he looks at his back as he left his house, walks down the way to the street and get into his car, even happier as he drives off. Shortly he leans against the door as he closed it, sighs again.  
“You killed a woman?”  
With a jerk a turns around and sees her on the stairs. Again a sigh. “Well…” He looks aside. He can’t look at her. No matter how seductive she looks in the little nightgown with the silky dressing gown hanging half down from her shoulders.  
She takes the last few steps and grabs him by his arm, drags him into the kitchen and placing him on a chair. With the damp cloth she wipes the blood underneath his nose away. Doesn’t feel like broken.  
“Since when did you listen exactly?”  
“Long enough.” She wanted to go to the counter and making a tea as he grabs her and draws onto the chair across him.  
“No women and no children. That has always been a rule of mine. I swear you, I never did it before. Never. I am for once not proud of what I did.”  
“Then why did you do it? The payment?”  
He laughs lowly and fake. “I don’t give a shit about the payment… no. When they order me to do a job, they know I’ll do it quickly and they know I leave no evidences. They wanted me to do it. And…” he takes a deep breath. “Well… would I decline… well… they know where I live and they know that you’re more precious to me than my car.”  
She looks at his hand as he takes her, looks up to his face, back to his hand. And in this moment it was the first time that her heart raced fast out of fear as she heard the threat. She looks up again as he softly squeezed her hand.  
“Don’t worry my dear. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says with a little smile.  
“So,” she starts after a short silence, “am I really more important to you than your car?”  
He laughs a little, pulling her onto his lap and holding her close. “Believe me or not, but yes. Or have you ever seen a car handling a riding crop this good like you do?” He laughs again, a bit more and he sees her smirking, softly slapping his shoulder and rolling with her eyes.  
“You know, doing it with a bazooka out of the reasons you said sounds a bit like a defiant child.”  
“Does that mean that you’re going to punish me,” he asks with a wide grin that shows his teeth.  
“No. You only want to be punished and it would be a real punishment when I don’t punish you at all.”  
“Come on…”  
“No.”  
“Dearie…”  
“No.”  
“Please… pretty please…”  
“No.” She giggles as she wants to stand up, but he still holds her, starts to tickle her.  
“Pretty pretty please!”


	10. Chapter 10

“Usually it is me who is blindfolding you.” A low chuckle she can hear while she gets carefully blindfolded, a black shawl to cover her eyes, all hair stroked aside to not tangle it in the knot.  
“Next time we change places again, promise. I am sure they don’t approve hat I take you with me, but for sure they would hate it when you know the way.”  
“Me, with the sense of direction of a potato…”  
“I like potatoes.”  
Even behind the shawl she rolls with her eyes.  
“They have at least such a good sense of direction that their blossoms know where the sun is and growing towards it.”  
Again she rolls with her eyes, but this time with a smirk on her lips. Now blind, she lets herself guiding by him into the garage and the car. “Are we going somewhere work related?”  
“Yes.”  
She hears and feels how he buckles her seatbelt, closing the door at her side and getting in on the driver’s side.   
“Somewhere special?“  
“Somewhere very special.”  
Now she hears how he buckles his seatbelt.  
Somewhere dangerous?”  
“No, don’t worry. It’s more like… a playground for adults.”  
“For adults adults,” she asks as he starts the car and leaves the garage.  
He chuckles shortly “No, not such kind of playground. More like a playground for hired killers.”  
“Oh…”  
“Don’t worry; it’s not a weapon fair or such kind… You could like it. It will be fun. And when I’m finished there we go really shopping and finding you some very nice dresses.”  
“Am I actually going to wear them for more than five minutes before you take them off of me?”  
Another chuckle. “Yes, promise. The theatre, to the opera, oh sometimes my bosses even invite me to their soirees and charity… things.”  
“Sounds exciting.”  
“Trust me, it’s not. All boring people with no sense of humour.”  
She has no clue how long they’re driving or where, she lost her sense of time completely blindfolded. She only figures out that it can’t be in the inner city. She hears no trains, no cars and she can feel that he lowers the pace at some point, feels when he takes a curve… and as he finally stops. Helps her out of the car, leading her a short way and up a three steps. She hears the closing of the door before they stop and he takes the shawl off of her again. She blinks several times until her eyes got used to the light again. Looking around a ´wow` slips her lips. “Are we in some kind of mansion or castle? Is this marble? Wow…”  
“Some kind of, yes.” He draws her closer with a grin. “But that’s not the most entertaining thing this place has to give.”  
He goes with her over to a wall, by the look of the door she guess it’s an elevator. “Okay, is this here MI6 or some super secret hide-out,” she asks as lets his fingerprint and iris scanned.  
“Much cooler,” he answers with a grin as the door opens and they enter. He pushes a button, the door closes and smoothly the elevator takes its ride down. She looks in wonder with the walls of glass of the elevator and the different levels they rush down. She jumps shortly as suddenly they’re surrounded by water, deep blue like it always looks in those travel reports. But not because of the water alone, there are also fishes that swim around them and wait… was that a shark? Without being aware of it, she grabs his arm tighter. Yeah it’s pretty ridiculous, but she fears sharks and open water, she knows that a shark won’t eat her until she looks like a seal, but still she’s a bit frightened by them, and are these walls of glass actually thick enough?  
“I call him Michael.”  
“What?”  
“The buddy with the 300 teeth that just passed. I use to call him Michael. He looks like a Michael.” He shrugs with his shoulders.  
“Are we safe in here?”  
He laughs shortly. “Yes, we are. I am the only here who’s going to eat you,” he grins down at her.  
Softly she slaps him against his arm and earns a laugh from him. She’s a bit relieved as they stop finally in a usual corridor. Okay, they look like this magnet guy from these comics he reads from time to time would have his fun in here. But still better than to be surrounded by tons of water. She’s still clinging at his arm as they walk down the corridor. At its end a door opens and someone steps out of it, coming towards them.  
“Madame,” he nods at her, nodding at him.  
He pushes her arm off, shoving her two steps in front of him. “Good day, Benny.” With a laugh, he ducks away as a fist runs towards him and hits the wall behind him instead of his nose. With a grumble ´Benny` fixes his cuff and sleeve. “One day someone is going to beat your pretty face into mash and I’ll be the one standing right next to you laughing. Maybe I’m also the one who pays that person.”  
“You need to catch me first, Benny.” With a grin on his face as he continues his way. “He hates it to be called Benny,” he grins at her.  
“You don’t have many friends, do you?”  
They enter through the door at the end of the floor and once again she’s stunned. Half of what lies behind looks like a lab and the other half like a car workshop. So many jaguars that are standing here it must be heaven on earth for her hitman lover.  
“Ah, Sir… I was already wondering when you would be coming. Madame,” he nods.  
“I would have come here sooner, Nick, but I had to come somewhere else first,” he smirks.  
Again she slaps him against his arm. She doesn’t know if it’s a curse or a talent to find a sexual double meaning in everything.  
He chuckles and goes over to the blonde man who stands behind a lab table and fixes some sort of… engineering thing? “Is this your boss,” she asks in a whisper.  
“Oh no,” he laughs, “My bosses aren’t half as cool as Nick is. Also he can always make very nice toys.”  
“So… this is some sort of… MI6, CIA thing here?”  
Now both men laugh. “No, we are the cool guys who actually get stuff done,” smiles `Nick`.  
“And forget James Bond, he’s a boring little twat. Have I not proofed this yet? So, show me what you have in store for me. Just look around, you can’t break anything, don’t worry.”  
“Do they know that you bring your girl here?”  
“No and honestly I don’t care.” They both lowered their voices.  
“But they will know.”  
“I blindfolded her, she has no idea where we are, come on, does she look like she could be a threat? She can’t even kill a spider… ´oh no, don’t kill it, just make it away`…”  
“Then why did you ask me for this special little thing?”  
The blond one shoves a small bag over the table to him. He opens it and spreads its content over the table. “A make-up set?”  
“For every one else, yes. But it can do more than underline ones natural beauty. The lipstick here. On one hand a lipstick, on the other end… a knife.” He shows him. “This nail file can be used for a fine manicure, but when you stab with it, it can pierce through a heart.” He rams the file into the table. “The liquid make up is pretty explosive when it comes in contact with fire and the perfume… does not only smell like Chanel No°5 but spray it directly at eyes, nose or mouth and you wish it would be simply pepper spray.”  
“And…”  
“Don’t worry; simply smelling it on whatever you imagine is not harmful in any way.”  
“And…”  
He sighs. “You can also do with these… spots whatever you want… It needs to come freshly and directly in contact with the mucosal… It’s just like pepper spray, only much, much stronger. I can make a venomous lipstick for her if you like to. One that makes her look gorgeous, but kills off whoever she kisses.”  
He grumbles. “The only one she’s kissing is me… and when she would kiss another one he would have to deal with me.”  
“I was just offering. But here is the weapon you ordered. Should we go to the shooting range?”  
“Darling?”  
“Yes?”  
“I have a surprise for you!”


End file.
